


The longest parsec

by hhike



Category: Star Wars, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: F/M, MandomeraWeek2021
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-15 06:41:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29929440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hhike/pseuds/hhike
Summary: Love like theirs will reach across the arms of the Outer Rim. Loosely connected oneshots for Mandomera Week 2021.Join us in yelling about mandomera! https://discord.gg/WKdHQqBshH
Relationships: Din Djarin/Omera
Comments: 17
Kudos: 18
Collections: Mandomera Week 2021





	1. Pining

Omera was carefully treading through the foliage, her eyes still adjusting to the twilight. The sun had not yet risen, but she knew the little outcrop of the woods like she knew the back of her hand.  _ Kindling will be a problem for future me _ , she thought with a heavy layer of resentment for past Omera. Every night when closing up she had fought the same fight for a decade now: go out and stock up on kindling before bed, or do it the next morning before the day starts in earnest. Usually, her reasonable side won, but after a particularly arduous day, she decided to take the shortest route to bed.

Full of regrets now, she listened to the sounds of the forest and the village waking up around her in unison. Droids beeped their startup sequence, a flock of birds fluttered away as one as a feral lothcat made a pounce for them, and snippets of conversation from the farm still made their way to where Omera was standing. A few more pieces and she’d have enough to get the fire started.

By the time she exited the treeline, her eyes had adjusted to the darkness. It was earlier than she had thought, and in the absence of the moons some of Sorgan’s constellations were still drifting across the sky. A rare, clear sky, ideal for a ship to land on the clearing she was just crossing.

The grass had grown back in the patches where the weight of the  _ Crest _ had previously stamped it out. It had been months again, and with no equipment powerful enough to send messages out the system, Omera had no way of knowing how many more it would be. 

“I got a lead,” Din had said, “I’ll probably be gone for a longer while this time.” He disappeared into the ship for a minute, emerging only to grab the next basket of vegetables Omera insisted he take. “But I think I’ll settle in here for winter when I’m back.”

It had been something they had discussed a few times, with Omera detailing the beauties of having a fireplace instead of an air recycler, and every time the conversation came up Din seemed to be more and more receptive to staying for months on end, and getting snowed in so they couldn’t leave the house for days. The tipping point was probably when Omera agreed that he could use his flamethrower to start the fire. Still, him saying that he’d like to stay, loud and clear made her heart skip a beat.

It’s been months, the days were getting shorter now and the cold night more and more unforgiving. Din never said when exactly he would be back, he never knew himself. His jobs and the Kid would take him on winding paths throughout the Outer Rim, and it seemed like he had been right: he’s been gone for a longer while this time.

Omera opened the door to the common house with her foot, turned on the one battery-operated light and started arranging the dried up branches and pieces of bark under the massive iron pot. Her hands worked on their own, going through the same motions as a thousand times before. She fished out a match from behind the counter and lit the little pile of wood shavings she placed in the fireplace, and watched the flame crawl along the branches, holding her cold palms out for a little warmth.

“Always”, Din had said. He could never promise he’d be back soon, but he said he would be back, no matter what happened. Omera believed him, a Mandalorian would be true to his word, but she couldn’t help the thought.

_ Where are you, Din? _


	2. Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trust is letting people in.

Ever since the Klatoonians had retreated, Sorgan was an island of peace and quiet. The wall still stood, and the makeshift spears were still kept at arm’s reach, but there had been no bloodshed for months on end - something the villagers never thought possible. Still, sometimes things would get violent on their own.

Din had just picked up a basket to carry back to the barn when he heard a bang from behind him and felt something bounce off his helmet with a metallic clang. Omera’s scream followed shortly after. Din spun on his heels, letting the contents of his basket roll in every direction and made a beeline for the ponds, where he thought the sound came from. It only took him a couple of steps to get there, but it was enough to have his blaster drawn and the proximity scanner on his helmet engaged.

Omera was sitting on the ground, holding her arm and yelling words that neither Din nor his translator unit knew. Din scanned for enemies while closing the distance between them, but the only other presence was a damaged droid, one of its freakishly long legs still twitching, the other lying several feet away on the ground.

“ _ Dank farrik _ , I told them, I kriffing told them.” Omera mumbled as Din crouched down next to her. She was clutching her left arm, a jagged piece of metal sticking out from between her fingers and blood trailing down her upper arm.

“What happened?”

“The droid. The joints on it were acting up for weeks now, and -- “ Omera sucked a breath in when she adjusted her grip “That one finally blew up. Are you OK? I heard -- I heard it hit you.”

_ Droids. _

Din holstered his blaster and let out the breath he’s been holding. The pieces of the droid had effectively acted as shrapnel, but luckily they didn’t seem to hit anything vital on Omera. Din crouched down next to her and put her arm around his neck.

“Can you walk? We need to stop the bleeding”

Without answering, Omera put some of her weight on Din’s shoulders and they took a few tentative steps together.

“Where are we going?” she asked when Din took a turn away from the village and out into the field.

“I have bacta in the  _ Crest _ . Cleaner and faster than a bandage. You’ll need it.”

“But--”

“No. I know you’ll live regardless, but we can’t have you out of commission, especially not Winta.” Din knew this would make Omera see reason. It sure worked every time he thought about a risky maneuver or taking a job that he was sure would end in a trip to a bacta tank.

The  _ Crest  _ had been lying dormant for a few weeks now, but it reacted quickly when Din issued a command from his vambrace. The ramp into the hold descended slowly, with a series of familiar creaks and hisses, revealing the organized chaos of the interior.

Din sat Omera down on a crate and started digging around his supply cabinets, looking for bacta and bandages. “Don’t pull it out yet.” He said without even looking over his shoulder.

“I won’t, I wasn’t planning on bleeding out on the floor of your ship.”

Din walked back to her, now with a local anesthetic, some bandages and a bacta spray in hand and kneeled down next to the crate she was perched on. A tap on the side of his helmet activated the light, illuminating the site of her injury. Deep but clean, the bacta would probably be enough. Without thinking, Din wiggled his fingers free from his gloves - the armor was too bulky for the fine movements required for this.

“I’ll try to be gentle, but I can’t promise it won’t hurt.”

Omera nodded and fixed her gaze on a far corner of the ship, and Din got to work.

* * *

With the bandage now in place and the bacta working its magic, Omera was taking in the steel-and-iron environment in the harsh floodlights.

“So this is where you live when you’re out there?”   
  
Din closed the bacta spray and neatly coiled up the clean gauze, then sat down next to Omera. “Sorry, I didn’t have time to tidy up, wasn’t expecting guests.”

Omera chuckled, a sure sign that she was going to survive. “You’ve seen my hut, I will be the last to judge you.”

Din stood up to pack away the leftover supplies, then took a detour on his way back to open the door hiding the closet/bed/hammock hybrid next to the ladder leading to the cockpit.

“That’s where the Kid and I sleep.”

Omera leaned forward, trying to gauge the depth of the hole in the wall. “It’s.. cozy?” she hazarded.

“It is slowly killing me, one joint at a time.” Din settled back down next to her, taking her hand in his. “But it’s home. It doesn’t have a fireplace though.”

Omera stroked the top of his hand with her thumb. “Well, you know there will always be space in front of ours. Probably more space than your cot here.”

Din laughed and rested his head on hers. “I know. And I intend to make use of it often and long. I'll stay at home this winter.”


	3. Reunions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Din staring into the distance as if it had answers

It had been a long day and Omera’s joints sang a chorus of relief when she placed the last sack of grains in the barn. She thought about the days when carrying a few pounds wouldn’t have destroyed her quite like this, but she liked to pretend she was at least more efficient nowadays. She looked around to inspect the day’s work: the harvest had been plentiful and efficient, sack was stacked upon sack, save for the spot where Din had left his crate with his belongings.

It’s been months since the shell of a Mandalorian arrived on Sorgan, and even though he has been getting better, his armor was still sitting in that box exactly like he put it in there a few days after his arrival. He hadn’t brought it up since, and no one else was going to, so the people just worked around the black, matte crate.

Thinking of Din made her realize she hadn’t seen him for a few hours at least. He did his share of the work, a combination of lifting heavy things, reaching to high shelves and repairing things that were beyond the village’s expertise. But once he’d ran out of work, he disappeared instead of sticking around to help with the small things.

She didn’t have to think much about where to look, it wasn’t the first time that Din had walked off the face of the planet. She found him sitting on an old, hollow tree trunk, absently staring at the shuttle in the middle of the clearing.

Moss was starting to form in the crevices that were always in shade and a couple of adventurous lothcats perched on the top, no doubt enjoying the heat reflected by the metal. They didn’t seem to be bothered too much by the unmoving Mandalorian.

“So, is it going to be today?” Omera asked as she settled down next to him. A pair of ears pivoted into her direction, but the pile of cats didn’t move yet.

“What is?” Din’s voice sounded like it came from a far away place.

“Well, the day you’re leaving. You’ve been staring at this shuttle so much, I figure it’s only a matter of time until you board it.”

“A long time.”

They hadn’t talked about how long Din would stay. He had told Omera what had happened, with Grogu, the jedi, and Gideon, and how he needed a place to find out what this all meant. She wasn’t sure just how much Din had figured out of that, but as the months passed, he started fitting into Sorgan more and more and it seemed less like he was looking for the next stop.

“I wonder how he will be when I see him again.”

“I can’t imagine him as anything else than a tiny troublemaker.”

Din chuckled, and for the first time looked at Omera. “Me neither, I’m sure that won’t change. But you haven’t seen him lift a mudhorn. Who knows what he’ll be like after all this training?”

“Maybe he’ll lift  _ two _ mudhorns.”

“Maybe even three!”

They both fell silent for a while, huddled up against each other now, taking in the sound of songbirds around them.

“I hope he’ll remember me.”

“ _ Din.. _ ” Omera started, but he kept talking.

“I’ve promised him I’d see him again, but it will be a long time. I hope he’ll still want to see me.”

“Do you still remember your parents?”

Din leaned away to be able to look at Omera, to judge just how serious the question was. “How would I not? I see them every night.”

“So then how do you think Grogu would forget you?”

Din lifted a finger in protest, but struggled to say the words for a few seconds. “I’m not his father. And it’s only been a year.”

“Oh, shut up. The way that kid looked at you, you were its  _ world _ . I saw it in Winta, years and years ago, before she learned how to slam doors. He’s going to remember every bit of you.”

“I hope so. There’s so much I couldn’t tell him.”

Omera put a hand over Din’s. “I know. But you promised him, right? I don’t think I’ve ever heard of a Mandalorian breaking a promise before.”

“You haven’t heard of a  _ Mandalorian _ before.”

“ _ Din. _ ”

“Yeah. I promised.” Din turned his hand so it fit better with Omera, and looked off into the distance once again. “I will see him again.”


End file.
